


Do the Candles, Spin the Thing

by WaterMe



Series: The SpideyPool Holiday Special [11]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: (every fuckin’ time), (yes it is), Breathplay, Chaotic Switches Peter Parker and Wade Wilson, Clothes Sharing, Connected One Shots, Dirty Talk, Fear Play, Food Kink, Getting Together (no it's not easy), Hanukkah, I'll be damned there's art!, Jewish Peter Parker, M/M, Mild Consensual Non-consent, Prequel, Sexy Dreidel, Slight Non Sexual Age Play, Snowballing, Spider-Man Identity Reveal, Sugarcoated Gay Story, a little humiliation for flavor, adults having adult problems, excuse me sir there's feelings in my porn, honor bondage, low-key sugar daddy wade, polyamory (mentioned), rough oral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:21:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27987618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterMe/pseuds/WaterMe
Summary: Every great romance begins with a Hallmark-worthy origin story.(The real treasure was the kinky sex we found along the way.)8 connected Hanukkah-themed oneshots for the “Isn’t It Bromantic Winter Holiday Bingo.”  With art byAtemyin chapter 7!!! See ch. 1 for chapter prompts and ratings.
Relationships: Spider-Man/Deadpool
Series: The SpideyPool Holiday Special [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705225
Comments: 165
Kudos: 183
Collections: Isn't it Bromantic- Holiday Bingo 2020, Isn't it Bromantic?





	1. Let's Gelt it On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CuteAsAMuntin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuteAsAMuntin/gifts), [Atemluver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atemluver/gifts).



> Happy Hanukkah, friends! This can be read as a one shots(s), but for those keeping up with the series, this is chronologically the very beginning of the SpideyPool Holiday Special!!! So if you've been curious about how the heck these two nerds got from "Platonic buds" to "Pinecones," here we be. 
> 
> Hugest of thanks to [CuteAsAMuntin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuteAsAMuntin/pseuds/CuteAsAMuntin) for putting in the time to sensitivity read for me. I'm not Jewish, but since comics [Peter Parker is subtly (and not-so-subtly) coded Jewish,](https://traincat.tumblr.com/post/171207775804/hi-ive-read-most-of-your-spideytorch-tag-and) I want to start representing that more overtly in my fics. Any outstanding mistakes or assumptions are my own.
> 
> Thanks to [Atemluver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atemluver/pseuds/Atemluver), [Y_ellow,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Y_ellow/) and [AnGoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnGoose/pseuds/AnGoose) for betaing <3
> 
> Prompts + Tags  
> 
> 
>   * Night 1: "Present" - Teen - idk, kisses or some gross shit
>   * Night 2: "Menorah" - Teen - Feelings, off-screen wax play
>   * Night 3: "Mistletoe" - Explicit - (bottom Peter) rough oral, light CNC, heavy dirty talk, Christmas puns
>   * Night 4: "Cuddling for Warmth" - Teen - Identity porn (NICE), healthy relationship communication (UGH)
>   * Night 5: "Snowball Fight" - Explicit - (mean top Peter) Kink: You know it's gonna be snowballing
>   * Night 6: "Dreidel" - Explicit - (bottom Wade, chaotic switch vibes) Kink: Sexy Dreidel, Donuts
>   * Night 7: "Latkes" - Teen - light/pre-ageplay, Feelings
> \+ "Snow", with embedded [art by Atemy!!!](https://atemy.tumblr.com/post/637716173931397120/show-chapter-archive)
>   * Night 8: "A Hallmark Moment" [Free Space] - Explicit - ❓❔❓👀😏👯
> 


**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Present"  
> Content: Feelings and Stuff

Being pinned to the wall by Spider-Man was one of Wade W. Wilson’s favorite things.

Not to be a creep (okay… maybe a little bit of a creep), but it was one of his favorite things even _before_ Spidey decided last July (on a gloriously balmy National Take Your Pants For a Walk Day) that it was time to, well… take their pants for a walk.

Time to play tonsil hockey (Wade, as a Canadian, was a _champ)._

Time to touch tips (and, when Wade was _very_ lucky, even more than just the tip, just for a second, just to see how it feels). 

Even before they embarked on their glorious fuckbuddy journey of rooftop makeouts, furtive grinding through spandex, and awkwardly dry hand-jobs, Wade never had complaints about getting webbed to a wall by an irate webcrawler. The adorable way he put his hands on his hips as he scolded Wade about Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of America’s Ass… well, maybe Wade didn’t always pick up the finer points of the lecture (thinking about Steve Rogers’ patriotic posterior will do that to you), but he _certainly_ left inspired.

Platonic lectures and queer-baiting web-bondage were nothing, though, not compared to being shoved up against a wall with super strength while NYC’s sweetheart in red and blue worked out his post-fight adrenaline with his tongue and a few jerky thrusts of his hips.

Wade was in love.

 _(Wade was trying very, very hard_ not _to be in love.)_

_(But damn, it was difficult when his spider-sweetie made him so damn hard.)_

Especially when, once they were finished, Webs was so painfully _sweet_ to him, leaning into close, resting his dainty head on Wade’s broad shoulder, adorable puffs of air tickling the side of Wade’s neck. It was almost enough to distract a guy from the itchy mess of man-icing that was well on its way to cementing his malted milk balls to the inside of his leather pants like two eyes on a gingerbread person.

Spider-Man leaned away to rustle through his backpack, but he was back right as Wade began to miss the warmth of him. 

“Happy Hanukkah,” he said, shoving a little mesh bag into Wade’s hands. Wade raised it to eye level, taking in the glint of foil-wrapped coins. A happy little flame lit deep within his ribcage — a spark of fondness, and hope, and just a _tinge_ of bittersweet longing.

“I didn’t know you were Jewish. I mean…” He nudged Spidey’s head with his own. “It's just, I didn’t get you anything.”

“S’okay.” Spidey shrugged under his arm. “Presents aren’t about getting something back.”

“Can I share it with you, or is that, like, Hanukkah bad luck?”

“It's not bad luck,” Spidey said, and Wade could practically hear the dimples.

He grinned back like a dope, slicing open the bag and tossing a coin to his Spider. “Are we supposed to play dreidel or something?”

With nimble fingers, Spidey snatched the golden coin out of the air. He wiggled happily against Wade’s side, unwrapping his loot. “You can,” he said, thick through the chocolate. “But you don’t have to. And dreidel gets kind of boring after a few rounds.”

“I bet _sexy_ dreidel doesn’t get boring.”

Spidey shook against him in a surprised laugh. “How would that even work?”

Wade popped a coin into his mouth. “You’d know better than me.”

The chocolate was kind of terrible, actually, waxy and flavorless. But the way Spidey kicked his feet against the side of the building and hummed as he ate it told Wade that it tasted like more than just chocolate, to him. And that made Wade like it more, too. 

“So…” he said, after the last swallow. “Wanna make out in that alcove?” 

Spidey gave a happy little bounce, and let Wade crowd him against the wall and slide their mouths together over and over, until Wade licked every last taste of that chocolate out of his mouth.

It tasted even better, that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I love hearing your thoughts, your favorite lines, and the things you hate that you liked 😘


	2. Is that a Shamash In Your Pocket?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Menorah"  
> Content: Even More Feelings. Off-screen wax play involving hanukkiyah candles.
> 
> Sorry to tease and then fade-to-black! I'll make it up to you in the 'sexy dreidel' chapter, promise 😘

Spider-Man’s fighting style was a little on edge tonight.

“Rough day at the office, dear?” Wade asked, eyeing the mugger struggling against Spidey’s chokehold. “If you keep flirting like that, a guy’s bound to get jealous.”

Spidey loosened his grip with a surprised lurch, and the man groaned as he crumpled to the ground. Wade would have felt sorry for him if he hadn’t been hassling a sweet little _abuela_ just trying to make her way home. “Yeah, actually,” Spidey muttered. “Don’t really wanna talk about it.”

Wade shrugged. “Well, you know you’ve still got that coupon for One (1) Free Perfectly Friendly Conversation with the employer of your choosing. You name the time, the place, and the asshole.”

“I’d love to take you up on that, but I know how you mercenaries are. First intimidation’s free, but after that it’s all ‘ten thousand for a kneecap’ this, ‘twenty thousand for an assassination’ that. This may come as a surprise, but being Spider-Man does _not_ pay well.” Spidey shook his head ruefully, miming turning out empty pockets as he wrapped _(webbed)_ things up with the crook.

Wade cackled. “You’re onto me, sugar bear. It’s a loss leader — gotta get you hooked on my sweet, powdery vengeance.”

The banter was light and easy, just like everything was light and easy when he was around Spidey. But something about it stuck in the back of Wade’s brain, and as soon as they got back to their favorite rooftop he twirled Spidey in close.

“Bee tee dubs, schnookums, you should probably know that a murder from Bea and Arthur runs _way_ more than twenty grand these days.”

Spidey nodded curtly, staring up at Wade with big, unreadable lenses. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I need one. How many pennies do I need to save up?”

“Hmm…” Wade tipped his head, made a show of pondering it. “Million buckaroos, minimum, li’l buckaroo. I’ve got this spider-babe back home who’s kind of, uh, ix-nay on the urder-may, so if I’m gonna piss him off I’d better have a good reason, and that reason better have a _shit-ton_ of zeros attached. And, you know, noble cause, verified sources, yada yada. But mainly the zeros.”

Spidey yanked his hands away and crossed his arms. “Forget the money — just how many spider-people are you seeing? You know full well that spiders _eat_ their sexual competition!”

Wade pulled him into a hug, shuffling them into an awkward slow dance. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m caught in your webs, Webs.” 

Spidey melted against him, swaying along to the tinny melody of _Feliz Navidad_ wafting their way from the Mexican joint across the street.

“Oh!” Wade said, “I almost forgot! I got you something!”

Spidey pushed him back, lenses widening. “A present?”

“Yupperoo, snickerdoodle,” Wade laughed, digging in his pouch for the tiny wrapped gift. He didn’t have any actual gift wrap, but he _had_ gone out of his way to find an end-of-year car ad with mostly blue cars. “Do _not_ shake it.”

Spidey froze, hand raised to do just that, eyeing Wade like he might just do it anyway. _Brat._

Instead, he carefully peeled back the newsprint. “Altoids? Aw, cute, you decorated the tin with a Menorah-saur!”

Wade was pretty damn proud of his candle-adorned dino, but that wasn’t the best part. “Open it, open it,” he urged.

“You gotta problem with my breath?” Spidey volleyed, cracking open the tin and dumping the contents — a pile of tiny candles and long wooden matches — into his hand. “Wait. Wow. Is this a tiny menorah? Did you _make_ this?”

“I found it on Pinterest,” Wade said, proudly. 

Spidey held it up to the light, peering down the row of shiny steel nuts hot glued to the bottom of the tin. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” he whispered.

“It’s just… holidays are super important to me?” Wade scuffed his feet. “Do you like it?”

“Oh,” said Spidey. “Well. I love it.”

He pulled up his mask and leaned in to kiss Wade, and when he pulled back there were those _dimples_ again. Wade was going to _perish._

The menorah looked so small on the rooftop ledge, but Spidey beamed in the glow of the tiny flames. “Maybe people in the neighborhood will see it, if they’re getting home from the night shift.” He burrowed against Wade. “So what are you doing for your holidays?”

“Huh.” Most of his other friends and sweeties were in outer space or the future or deep undercover in Antarctica or something. “I mean, Festivus, strip club, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“But Christmas? Not sure.” 

“Oh.” 

Wade squeezed Spidey a little tighter. “What’s up, buttercup?”

Spidey hitched his shoulders. “You said holidays are important to you, is all.”

“Aw, don’t worry about me, sweetums. Worst case I can use the cancer card to pull a Tiny Tim and crash the X-Mansion. Less _A Christmas Carol_ and more _Island of Misfit Toys,_ but I know where the old egg on wheels keeps the good sauce. Maybe this year I’ve even been good enough to sit on Piotr’s lap!”

Spidey went stiff. _“Who?”_

“Oh, uh, Colossus. Maybe I can bring out a little bit of _Daddy_ Christmas, ya know?” Spidey made a little choking sound. “Oh shit!” Wade said. “I did tell you I sometimes kind of have a thing with Colossus, right?”

“Yeah, yeah! I just… didn’t recognize the name.”

“Right? He does _not_ read as a Peter.”

Spidey cradled one of Wade’s hands in his and — in the most adorable move in the entire fucking _universe —_ buried his own face in it. He huffed out a laugh, hot against Wade’s palm. “You’d be surprised…”

Wade shook his head, bemused but patient as Spidey arranged him until they were tangled around each other in a way that was apparently just right (if one was a tiny spider trying to curl up around a giant walking tumor). Just as soon as Spidey was settled, Wade was struck by a sudden and overwhelming urge to make the sweet, contented baby squeal just a little bit.

The flickering candles caught his eye.

Naw.

He _couldn’t._

Some fantasies were so naughty they needed to stay in the time-out room for, uh, _personal_ use only.

“It would probably be super insensitive to pour hot wax all over you, huh,” he heard his big mouth say.

_Fuck._

Spidey tilted his head. “Yeah, man… that’d be pretty fucked up.” Oops. “So… do you wanna?”

 _Oh no,_ Wade’s heart said. _This man right here is husband material._

Out loud he said, “Does the Pope pick up his Grindr dates in the Popemobile? Of _course_ I wanna!”

  
  
  
  


At the end of the night, Spidey carefully tucked the unburnt (and unmolested) candles back into the tin, cradling it awkwardly. “I, um, didn’t bring my bag tonight. And I don’t really have pockets.”

“Oh!” Wade said. “I can keep it in my pouch, if you want.”

Spidey handed it over, teeth flashing bright as he folded down his mask. “Guess that means I have to see you tomorrow, huh.”

Wade swallowed hard. “Guess so.”

Then Spidey leaned in, brushing tactical spandex against leather in the softest, sweetest kiss. “Thanks for the present,” he said, then he was off into the night

Wade watched him go (love to watch him leave, etc etc). “Wade Wilson,” he told the cold December air, “you are absolutely _fucked.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna see some stinking cute menorahs (including the Altoids tin one), [check out this blog!](https://biblebeltbalabusta.com/2013/11/12/altoids-tin-menorah/)


	3. Anything Else You Want Me To Kiss?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The token Christmas chapter
> 
> Prompt: Mistletoe  
> Content: Explicit! Bottom Peter, rough oral, light consensual non-consent, heavy dirty talk, and, uh... sweet clothes sharing? 🤷

“Okay, man, I gotta ask…” Spider-Man paused to deliver a punch to the jaw to one of the off-brand Mall Santas they’d caught (red-cheeked and red-handed) robbing a convenience store. “What’s with the coat?”

“Oh, do you like it?” Wade preened.

It was his favorite coat — a cozy blue suede thing with fur lining. He’d kind of forgotten about it, but it had popped up that morning while he was digging around in one of his storage units for that spare box of grenades.

(He didn’t find the grenades.)

(Don’t ask.)

“It suits you,” Spidey shouted, momentarily distracting Wade from decking Santa’s halls.

He was dead wrong, but it was nice of him to say. The coat itself was sweet — kind of a ‘Bane and the Great Smurf Massacre’ aesthetic — but it clashed horribly with the Deadpool suit, and getting the katanas in and out from under it was a goddamn pain in the ass. But damn. Wade _loved_ that coat.

“I know you don’t like seeing me get stabbed, shot, and otherwise maimed, sweet pea, and I figured, well, I heal, but the _coat_ doesn’t, so maybe I’ll be a teeny bit more careful if I’m wearing it.”

“Wow.” Spidey ducked his head. “Talk about making the yuletide gay.”

With a roundhouse kick, Wade sent the last naughty Ho-Ho home for the holidays. Something caught his eye, and he reached down.

 _“Mistletoe?_ What were _you_ planning on getting up to, Mr. Claus?” He held it up the bundle, making exaggerated smooching noises. “Yo Spidey, check this mistletoe I got off our mistle _foe._ Wanna get that ass over here and make the most of it?”

Spidey froze and looked over his shoulder at the empty street. He chuckled awkwardly. “You wish, ‘Pool.”

After leaving the crooks gift-wrapped for the cops, Spidey gave him a swift and titillating ride to their favorite rooftop. 

“Sorry about that, sugar plum!” Wade said, grasping the mistletoe as they landed and readying his pitching arm for a ceremonial chucking of the Christmas spirit. “We just cleaned Christmas’s clocks for coming early, and here I am trying to skip straight to Boxing Day!” 

An iron grip on his wrist rescued the festive bundle from a grisly dumpster grave. 

“If you ask those Santas, we already skipped to Boxing Day. And you're allowed to like Christmas stuff, it wasn't that! I know you always ask to kiss me, it’s like your _thing._ But I guess that time, I really wanted to say yes? Right there on the street and everything.”

Wait, Spidey had wanted to kiss him? On the _street?_ “We don’t do that, babycakes. Everyone knows our team-up is an ampersand, not a slash.”

“I know! That’s why I freaked out a little. It was my bad, I’m sorry. Please don’t stop flirting with me, even on the street! And on the roof — ” Spidey stood on his tiptoes, folding up both their masks, mouth brushing Wade’s “ — on the roof, I'll take any excuse to kiss you.”

 _Oh,_ Wade thought, wrist tingling as Spidey coaxed him to raise their joined arms until the mistletoe dangled above their heads. Say will you want about stealing Christmas from the Pagans — mistletoe kisses were _damn_ good kisses. 

Just as shit was getting good, Spidey shivered. It was a big, sudden thing, a wracking shake that clanged their teeth together. With a tsk, Wade pulled back just far enough to swing his coat off his broad shoulders and swirl it around Spidey's slim frame. Spidey slid his arms in the sleeves, ducking his head a bit as he pet at the fur collar. 

It suited him. It really, really did, the weathered blue pulling out the deep sapphire in his suit. The whole thing made Wade a little weak. 

Then, Spidey was tugging Wade's hand back up, the mistletoe dangling right over his clavicle, and Spidey’s mouth was… _oh._

“I, uh, wouldn't put my mouth on that if I were you,” Wade said, head falling back as Spidey ran his tongue obscenely up a leather katana strap. “I know _exactly_ where it's been.”

Spidey blinked up at him, bit his lip. “Anywhere else you want me to kiss, then?”

His hand slipped off Wade's wrist, leaving Wade in charge of the mistletoe. 

Wade _did_ have a few ideas, and Spidey looked so nice sliding to his knees, especially with that big coat pooling around him. Looked so nice with his hand peeking out of the fuzzy sleeve as he pulled off a glove and played Jack Frost with icy fingers in Wade's pants. And then Wade gestured with the mistletoe until Spidey kissed a sweet, hot apology for the chill.

There was an energy about him tonight, a seductively coy lolita thing that wasn’t his usual brash lustiness, but it was _doing_ it for Wade. Wade wished he could see Spidey’s eyes. He bet he’d be blinking innocently up through long lashes, silently asking, _‘Am I doing it right?’,_ knowing _damn_ well he was.

Spidey pulled off, drool glistening oh-so-enticingly from the curve of his lip down to the head of Wade’s cock. “Could, you? Um…”

He had Wade’s attention.

“Could you be rougher?” he asked in a rush. “Like we talked about before?”

Like they talked about — 

Oh.

_Fuck._

They’d talked about a little more than just ‘rough.’ Wade had been laying the groundwork for months now, dirty talking little Mr. _‘I'm totally kinky, I've been tied up before’_ until his lenses crossed, teasing out likes and dislikes and deep, dark curiosities. They had talked about it, alright, talked about it until they ruined their suits.

Talking was different than doing. And Wade wanted to _do._

He took a slow, deep breath. Spidey quivered, waiting. Just when he started to open his mouth (probably to backtrack, apologize, make a joke of it), Wade _squeezed,_ tightening his hand cruelly on the back of that elegant neck. Spidey’s mouth went lax.

“You wanna play a little with Deadpool, huh?” He slid to the ground, using the wall at his back to make an easy, graceful descent. Spidey, scruffed as he was, didn’t do so well, limbs scrambling to keep up with Wade’s heavy hand. With the tiniest twist of his fingers, Wade rotated him until he was splayed out to the side, wet, open mouth hovering over Wade’s cock. _Right_ where he belonged. “Hands on my thighs. Don’t move ‘em, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Spidey’s shaky whimper was cut off as Wade pushed his hot little mouth back down. Wade pressed hard, pressed until his throat opened, counting silent seconds. He watched Spidey’s body start to twitch, little aborted fits and starts as his body started to register the lack of air, as he fought against an instinctive need to push away. Wade took the time to take a few luxurious breaths, fighting his own urge to thrust up until he came down that spasming throat.

“Aw, poor baby,” he crooned to the panicky body under him. “Too much for you already? You gonna tap out?”

Spidey’s hand came up in a rush, like he’d forgotten it was there. His fingers spread out wide, then curled into a fist, once, twice… and then his trembling hand came back to rest gingerly on Wade’s thigh.

“Shit, good boy,” Wade gasped, pushing him down harder, letting him stew in it for just a few more delicious seconds before yanking him up. 

Spidey sucked in a heaving breath, then gasped out a wet, “Thank you.”

Wade groaned, “Anytime, sweetheart,” and then pushed him back down.

He pulled his glove off with his teeth, his free hand taking a nice little meander to paradise. He searched for the seam of the suit, stroked his way in, and went straight for a hole-in-one, pressing at the outside with the pads of two fingers. Spidey yelped, the strangled sound vibrating as it was cut short by the head of Wade’s cock.

“Oh, I know baby, your little asshole gets so scared. So tight for me. I’ve been so very patient with you.” Wade leaned in close, flexing aggressively against the tense ring of muscle. “Think tonight’s the night I run out of patience and just… take?”

Spidey squirmed, shoulders hitching, and Wade genuinely couldn’t tell if it was distress or arousal (and maybe Spidey couldn’t tell, either). But the hand on Wade’s thigh was heavy and firm, little rhythmic squeezes and stutters, but no taps. 

A deep, dark part of Wade wondered just how far he could push before that changed.

“Maybe I teach you a lesson first, about being a tease. What do you think about that?” 

Spidey had many thoughts, none of them coherent, but the vibrations of his alarmed sputtering went straight to the base of Wade’s dick, tingling through his balls.

“You’ve been fucked before, right?”

“Mmhmm,” Spidey hummed.

“You ever been spanked?”

Another assent, though less strong.

“Yeah? Spanked till you were bruised? I bet you haven't. I bet it's hard to find someone who’ll hit you hard enough for that, huh. I would. Anyone ever spank your asshole?”

Spidey squealed, a high, indignant sound that was drawn out by the harsh press of Wade’s fingers, digging cruelly into the tiny muscles on either side of the hole. This wasn’t a spanking, but Wade still wanted him to feel it tomorrow, wanted him to think of this every time he sat down.

“I’m gonna take that as a no,” he mused, massaging the places where his fingers had dug. “I know how strong you are, how much you can take. I bet no one’s willing to spank you even half as hard as you deserve. Me, though? I wouldn’t be afraid to spank your stuck-up little hole until it was black and blue, until it was so swollen it was a different _shape._ And that’s when I’d fuck you.”

Spidey jerked, and Wade pushed his head back down.

“Yeah, you like getting fucked? Like taking it up the ass?”

A whimper.

“Well you wouldn’t like this, I promise. It would _suck_ for you. And you know what?” he leaned in close, taking in every little tremble, every wet, scared sound. “I would like that. I would like that you’d be so swollen and tight that forcing into you would hurt _me._ I would like seeing you cry till you couldn’t breathe, knowing I was taking something you loved and I was _breaking_ it. I would get off so fucking hard, knowing you weren’t getting a single bit of pleasure out of it, knowing how bad it hurt you to get me there.”

He was practically folded on top of Spidey now, torso curling around his jerking head. He pushed him down hard, took away his breath, pressed in with the tips of his fingers.

“Are you sorry you asked to play with Deadpool, now?”

A long tense pause, and then a weak, “Mm-mmm.”

Wade stilled. “Did you just say — ”

Spidey wiggled weakly, even as he shook harder, even as he ran out of air.

“Holy fucking shit,” Wade breathed, letting Spidey up just enough to not actually die, and then he used that little gap and _took_ _,_ holding Spidey's head tight as he thrust up fast into that warm, wet, _accommodating_ mouth.

“Fuck,” he said, as he got close. “Don’t swallow, don’t you fucking dare, not if you know what's good for you,” and Spidey keened around his cock and convulsed. Wade had to stop himself from thrusting in hard and spilling straight into that tempting throat, had to use every ounce of willpower to pull Spidey up and paint that sassy little tongue white instead. “Fuck,” he said again, collapsing back against the wall. He slowly pulled Spidey’s head up, pulled the tips of his fingers loose, moaned at Spidey’s pained wince.

He pulled Spidey up, long limbs going everywhere as the kid scrambled his way into Wade’s lap, the coat falling open and covering them both.

“Tongue out,” Wade demanded. “Show me.

Spidey stuck out his tongue, moaning as Wade examined its tainted surface with a curse. Wade stuck his fingers in there, pushed the jizz along his tongue, into his cheeks, hooked his fingers behind his lower front teeth and _pulled,_ dug his fingers into the pressure points until he got a strangled yelp.

Finally, with one more broad, invasive swipe, he withdrew. “You don’t get to swallow until you come. If you swallow, I’ll stop touching you.” Then he reached into Spidey’s suit bottoms and wrapped his slick, spitty hand around a _very_ interested cock. “Huh,” he mused. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you _like_ me scaring the snot out of you.”

“Uh huh,” choked Spidey, drool and jizz dripping down his chin.

 _Fuck._ He was so damn perfect, and so damn pretty, and the feeling of him bucking in his lap was almost enough to get Wade ready to go all over again.

“God, baby boy, I wanna see your eyes right now. Wanna see how fucked out and stupid you look. I bet you look so fucking dumb. Bet I could just pull your mask off right now and you wouldn’t even stop me.”

He reached up, white eyes locked on white eyes, and slid a finger under the edge of the mask.

Not much and not with intent. Just a teeny, _tiny_ investigation. 

Spidey jerked, and gargled out a moan, and came all over Wade’s hand.

Wade worked him through it, stroking and twisting just so until Spidey’s spasming body finally slowed into quiet trembling. “Okay,” Wade said. “You can swallow, good boy.”

Spidey made a cracked, confused sound as he did. He rasped out, “Thank you.”

Yeah, so, that completely destroyed voice was going in the time-out corner with menorah waxplay to keep Wade and his unicorn buddy warm on cold, lonely nights.

Around them, the air was quiet, tranquil. It was time to slow down, time to relax in the afterglow.

Wade grasped Spidey by the back of the neck and roughly shoved his jizz-coated fingers into his mouth. 

Spidey jerked and squealed, and struggled a little, but his tongue was already working, frantic against Wade’s fingers, soft between them. Wade swore, yanking his hand out and leaning in to lick broad, flat swipes across Spidey’s lips, up his chin, a token effort at cleaning up the wreck he’d made.

  
  
  
  


They stayed out way too late that night. Wade didn’t feel great about letting Spidey out of his sight after being so rough, and Spidey didn’t seem inclined to leave, so they lit the candles and cuddled up and talked. Finally, Spidey yawned until his jaw cracked.

“Guess I should go,” he said. He was slow to gather his things, but eventually he was standing by the edge of the roof, scuffing his boots.

“Oh, wait, my — ” Wade stopped short. _My coat,_ he didn’t say.

“What?” Spidey asked, thoughtlessly slinging his backpack around the oversized sleeves.

Wade swallowed hard. “Nothing, baby. Just… get home safe, okay? Text me when you get there.”

> **Spidey:** omg I totally stole your coat, I’m so sorry!!!!
> 
> **DP:** looks good on u  
>  **DP:** does it feel like I’m still holding u tight, when u wear it?
> 
> **Spidey:** *blush emoji* … yeah
> 
> **DP:** <3  
>  **DP:** drink some water, and cuddle up in it and think of me


	4. Be Chill, My Beating Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Cuddling for Warmth"  
> Content: Identity porn (NICE), healthy relationship communication (UGH)

“Ash’s kid, Shamu…”

 _“Asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav._ ” Spidey laughed through the words, smacking Wade in the ribs. “You’re messing it up on purpose!”

Wade half-heartedly put up his hands to protect himself. “I’m not, I’m not, you just sing it so fast!” Spidey gave him a withering look. “Okay, fine, I’m making a joke because it makes you smile, grumpy bunny. And because I feel dumb. But I’ll watch the videos again.”

“Don’t feel dumb! You don’t have to get it perfect. I can go slower. That’s just how we did it when I was a kid.”

“I’ll watch the videos again,” Wade promised. “Don’t slow down.”

“I wanna teach you,” said Spidey, and started the blessing over.

It was cold as Colossus' shiny metal balls, which probably should have been a reason for them to part ways immediately after patrol. Instead, it was the perfect excuse for Wade to pull Spidey into his lap and press their foreheads together as they watched the candles burn. Wade was entertaining some legitimate concerns about frostbite where the skin of his ass met cold concrete, but it was oh-so-worth it to get to hold his bae in his arms. 

Spidey had brought back the coat (“To wear!” he’d said, when Wade gave him the eye. “I’m not giving it back, I just wanted to wear it!”), and it fell around them both, making a cozy, private bubble of heat and whispered words.

“How was your day?” Wade asked, a little hesitant.

“I’m that bad, huh?”

“Just a little grumpy. Fancy science lab got ya down?”

Spidey laughed. “Gosh, I wish.”

“Wait.” Wade sat up straight, Spidey clinging to him for balance. “You _don’t_ work in a fancy-schmancy science lab? Are you saying the comics lied to me?”

Spidey shook his head ruefully. “There aren’t as many big boy lab jobs as they tell you when they sell you on a STEM degree, turns out.”

Wade nodded. “Well, maybe it’ll be better once you graduate. Having the degree helps, right?”

There was a long, awkward pause, and Spidey slowly tipped his head until his ear almost touched his shoulder. “ ‘Pool… I have my degree.”

“But… You’re in school! I swear you’ve talked about class and stuff.”

“Maybe…” Spidey sat back, running a thoughtful hand across the back of his neck. “Maybe I did? When I was in college? But Wade, I graduated _four years ago.”_

“Oh. Huh.” Wade thought back. “Yeah, I guess maybe it was that long ago. Wow. We’ve been hanging out for four years?”

“Longer.” Spidey nudged his cheek against Wade’s shoulder. “Time flies when you’re having fun. But yeah. Having the degree doesn’t necessarily make the jobs appear. At least not good ones. Long hours and low pay and being treated like the glorified janitor, maybe. Anything better needs a grad degree. I was really, really lucky to get brought on full-time at my side gig after I graduated.”

Damn. And here Wade was thinking life was easier for the brainiacs. “You ever think about going back to school?”

Spidey shrugged. “I’d love to. But I’m still trapped under loans from the first time around. I can’t afford to give up this job.”

Wade pet slow, thoughtful strokes up and down his back.

“But you’re not happy there.”

Spidey pressed his face hard against Wade’s neck. “No,” it was so quiet Wade almost missed it, “No, I’m not.”

Wade squeezed him a little tighter, letting him stay tucked in, watching the flickering glow across the concrete.

“I was afraid you saw the _Bugle_ today,” Wade finally said. Spidey stiffened. _Fuck._ “Sorry! I shouldn’t have brought it up, I’m sorry, it was nothing. Just the usual dumb bullshit.”

“No, it’s fine, I saw it,” Spidey mumbled against him. He sighed. “Kinda hard to avoid…”

“I know I’m not allowed to find and menace your boss, but can I go toss Jameson around a little?”

Spidey choked on a laugh. “No!”

“Nothing physical, then. I’ll pee in his shoes.”

“Nope.”

“Prank call?”

“… maybe.”

“Yessss.” Wade was tempted to pump his fist in the air, but he didn’t want to take his hands off Spidey’s waist, or break their secret, warm bubble. “Quick, lemme change the subject before you change your mind.”

“Oh, I regret this already…”

“No take-backsies!” Wade sang. “Wait, can I pee in the shoes of that photographer who’s always chasing you around?”

Spidey laughed so hard that Wade was pretty sure he was crying a little under the mask. _“Absolutely not,”_ he wheezed.

Wade laughed too, although he wasn’t sure why, out of all the things that had come out of his mouth that night, _that_ was so funny. Whatever hellish job baby boy had, it was clearly making him hysterical.

They just sat for a while, cozy and companionable. Finally, Spidey broke the silence.

“So,” he said slowly. Wade held his breath, hearing the nerves in his voice. “We… haven’t been super serious. I know we aren’t exclusive. Or, I guess, you haven’t been. I’m, uh, painfully bad at dating. But I’ve just been wondering if you’d want to… get more serious?”

It was Wade’s turn to freeze, although he managed to keep his hands steady and grounding on Spidey’s hips. “Would I want to be exclusive?”

There was a buzz of excitement in his chest, but also a tiny ball of ice in his stomach, rapidly rolling its way into a Frosty-sized snowball. He didn’t want to be _that guy —_ the guy who blithely breaks up with everyone because he’s got a new dude.

But this was _Spider-Man!_ The love of his life! 

(Spider-Man, the guy who wouldn’t even share his first name or his eye color.)

“No,” Spidey said. “I mean, would you want to get more serious. Like… I don’t know.”

“I’m not monogamous,” Wade blurted. “Like, not even a little.”

“So you don’t want to date?” Spidey said, voice a little strained.

Shit. Wade had always suspected that this thing came with an expiration date, but he hadn't thought… he hadn't expected it to be quite this soon. And on _Hanukkah._

Spidey sucked in a quick breath, sitting back on Wade’s lap, arms around his neck. “I think we might be having two different conversations. Can I start over? I would like to date you. _Date,_ date. With feelings. And, if it goes that way, commitments, and cohabitation, and whatever else it is that people do. I’m not actually super clear on that part. But I want to date _you,_ whatever that looks like. Is… is that something that you would like to do with me? Or do you want to stay sex friends?”

“I wanna date the shit out of you,” Wade said. “I wanna woo you dizzy. And I have plenty of space for a main squeeze. But there are other people in my life who aren’t optional. How do you feel about that?”

“Would I get to meet them? And, uh, know who they all are, and stuff?”

Wade’s eyes softened. Aw, baby poly.

Oh, shit. _Baby poly._

It was fine. This would be fine.

“I’d love for you to meet them. A few of them know about you in, uh, very vague terms. Because I wasn’t sure if Spider-Man was cool with that. But if we get more serious, I’ll definitely want to let them know.”

“So… are we… we can be boyfriends?” 

Wade grinned, leaning in to kiss him. “We can be boyfriends.”

Spidey’s fingers slipped under his mask, and Wade’s breath caught in his throat. Then his hands dropped back to Wade’s shoulder, and he looked away. His lip wobbled a little. “I’m not… maybe I’m not ready to date anyone. If I can’t even show you…”

“Hey, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I rushed you?” Wade ran his thumb along Spidey’s jaw, and was rewarded with a ducked head and a grin.

 _Boyfriends._ Yeah, Wade could get behind that.

Spidey leaned in close. “My name's Peter,” he said, and Wade’s heart lurched. Spidey _(Peter)_ was quick to add, “But I don't think I want you to call me that when I'm in the mask.” 

So Wade rolled it around in his brain, instead. _Peter. Pete. Petey-Pie. Sweet Pete._

“Wait,” he said. “Do I have a _type?”_

“You mean Colossus?” asked Spidey.

“You, him, and my sweet, mustachioed prince,” Wade said with a tear in his eye. “I’m so grateful to have him, after our love was almost cut short too soon by that horrific incident with the wind advisory, the woodchipper, and the roman-shower of deadly corrosive acid. Lucky thing I jacked that pocket-rocket of a time machine off Cable!”

Spidey blinked. “I can never tell when you're fucking with me.” 

“I am not. I'll tell you the whole, tragic story. But first, explain this to me, mister. I thought Spider-Man doesn't swear?” 

Spidey bit his lip, then grinned. “Spider-Man doesn't swear. But I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, y'all've been jerking it to lil creampuff Holland getting wrecked in bunny ears when it was _actual adult Peter Parker_ all along!
> 
> Just kidding, I don't care, you can imagine him as any version and any age that you want, the world is your smutty oyster. But in my brain this one has a few adult years under his belt.
> 
> (And, yes, Mustache Peter gets to live. Because I said so. Don't ask me to explain, this universe has no goddamn logic.)


	5. A Snowball's Chance In...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Snowball Fight"  
> Content: Explicit, asshole top Peter, Wade's OOC fear of falling down on the ice, and (don't make me say it)(okay fine) snowballing
> 
> This wasn't even supposed to be today's prompt. Apparently my horrible little brain decided we all needed an intermission from the feelings-bomb. Don’t worry, I’m sure they'll be back to give you diabetes tomorrow.

Santa’s Asshole (aka New York City) warmed up a little the next day — just enough to let some moisture back in the air and allow a little snow to fall. Not nice snow, of course. Shitty, wet snow, the kind that slid down the back of your neck and covered the sidewalks in horrible gray slush and completely gummed up the aging windshield wipers on Dopinder’s cab.

Not to worry, though!

By nightfall, the temperature had dropped back down, leaving Wade’s nemesis! 

Not the Juggernaut.

No, not Thanos.

Even worse than that.

_Ice._

If there was one thing Wade Wilson hated, it was falling down on ice. One second you were walking around, happy as a clam, having a nice day. The next, Old Man Winter pulled the rug out from under you and sent you flying. Wade hated that gut-wrenching moment when the physical world felt a whole lot less physical (and then, very suddenly, a _whole_ lot more).

It was a _betrayal,_ was what it was.

And yet somehow, here Wade was, struggling his way towards his favorite spandex-clad booty across a vast, treacherous rooftop. Their favorite haunt — _their rooftop,_ that hallowed plain where, not one night before, Spider-Pete had trusted Wade with his _name_ — had become a veritable deathtrap, the likes of which even Indiana Jones wouldn’t cross, not even if the Temple of Poon was on the other side.

Wade would take all the snakes in the world (oh, he’ll _take ‘em,_ if ya know what I mean (it’s a dick metaphor)); he would wrangle every snakepit if his boy Harrison would just face this icy horror in his stead.

(Not coincidentally, “IndysSnakePit” was Wade’s Grindr username.)

“You okay?” Spidey asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Great!” Wade said, gritting his teeth as he took another tentative step. His foot slid out underneath him, and he splayed like Bambi on a frozen pond. _“Not great!”_

The world tipped and the wind knocked out of him and then the reeling stars and birdies in his view were blocked out by glorious red, white, and blue.

“Are you an angel?” he wheezed.

“Are you okay?!” gasped Spidey.

“I’m always okay with you, Spidey.” Wade was pretty sure Spidey’s eyes turned into actual hearts, but that was probably the concussion. 

“Okay, um, let’s get you up.” Spidey helped him to his feet, steadying him. “Sorry, man, I didn’t realize it was quite this slick.”

“How the hell are you not slipping?” Wade asked, staring down at Spidey’s firm stance. His own meandering boots were doing a great impression of a Slip ‘n’ Slide, bloody chin and bitten-through tongue included.

“It’s kind of my superpower,” Spidey said, patiently. “I’m sticky. Remember?”

Wade groaned. “How could I forget? Right, right, concussion.” But the thought of Spider-Man getting sticky _did_ cheer him up a little.

“Yeah, okay, we’re almost there,” Spidey said, helping him to the retaining wall that was their favorite make-out nook. The ice was even slicker here, but Spidey’s hands on him were strong, and between his best friend (Spider-Man), and his _new_ best friend (Wall), Wade felt almost steady.

Wade took a few deep breaths. 

“Wait,” Spidey said. “…aren’t you Canadian?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Canadians? Snow? Ice? Mocking others for their inability to retain heat?”

“Have I ever done that?” Wade demanded.

Spidey had the decency to look a little apologetic. “I guess not.”

“I’m from Vancouver! We have sushi, and rain, and a thriving off-shores real estate market! But not — pay attention, this is important — _not_ snow, and _definitely_ not _ice.”_

Spidey laughed, then, actually _laughed_ at him, and Wade couldn’t do anything but glare across the desolate wasteland that stretched between him and the cheerful Hanukkah candles. _They_ were certainly burning bright. _They_ hadn’t been led astray by their tiny wax dicks and by Spidey’s magnificent ass and by the promise of sweet, sticky handjobs.

“Well,” said Spidey. “I guess I could help you back across. Or…” He really drew it out.

“Yes,” Wade said quickly, “That, please, I don’t need to hear any other options.”

 _“Or_ maybe you just need someone to help you stay upright while I help you stay… upright.” He pressed the palm of his hand hard against Wade’s fly.

“That was so bad,” Wade gasped. “With lines that unsmooth, no wonder you’re not sliding on this ice. I shouldn’t even fuck you after that.”

“Is that a no?”

“It’s not a — _no!”_

Spidey dropped to his knees, and, as much as Wade enjoyed the view, he didn’t like it nearly so much when it also included his own feet pinwheeling out from under him. Spidey’s strong hands caught him by the hips, pressing him to the wall.

“Yeah,” Wade said, a little dazed. “Yeah, okay, maybe we can work with this.”

Even though Spidey’s hot little mouth was as slippery as ice, it was _much_ more enjoyable. And as hard as Wade’s heart was thumping in his chest every time his feet slid just enough to remind him that terra firma was not so firma, the adrenaline was… kinda enhancing the experience. Not to mention baby-bug using his strength, _yum!_

He knew Spidey was stronger than him, had seen his bae catch cars and punch through steel (and Wade had spent some _very_ pleasant evenings recounting these experiences to Mr. Unicorn). But Spidey was so much smaller than him, and he always went so deliciously limp when Wade put a hand on the nape of his neck. It was understandable that Wade just kinda forgot sometimes.

It was easier to remember when those palms of steel were the only thing between Wade and certain, icy obliteration. And Spidey made sure he didn’t forget it, either, shifting his grip occasionally, letting Wade slide a centimeter here, a millimeter there, blinking up with wide, innocent lenses at Wade’s panicked yelps.

Spidey pulled off with an obscene slurp. “Do you want to stop?” he asked sweetly.

“Please-don’t-stop,” Wade gulped, peering through his fingers, courage slightly restored by the sight of his own hard cock hovering at the entrance to Spidey’s luscious mouth.

“If you insist,” Spidey said, and he let Wade’s hips go completely and sucked his cock down to the hilt. 

Wade’s feet slipped and his brain whited out hard enough that for a second he couldn’t tell if he was achieving orgasm, or if he had finally fallen hard enough to crack his skull open. Luckily for everyone involved, it was the first one.

“Guh,” he told the frigid air.

“Mmhmm,” Spidey hummed, pulling back and looking like the cat that got the cream. Wade trembled as his hips were released yet-a-fucking- _gain,_ but Spidey was crawling up his body, sticking to the wall and caging him in like the creepy, horrible spider that he was. Wade clung to Spidey’s biceps, groaning as a _very_ interested dick thrust against his hip and caught on his own over-tenderized piece of meat.

Spidey’s mouth landed on his, and Wade went lax, only to jerk back and smack his head on the brick as a lukewarm, slippery surprise made its disgusting way into his mouth. 

“What the fuck?” he asked thickly, making a face as he swallowed.

“What's wrong?” Spidey pouted, rutting against him harder. “Thought you liked it when I kept your come in my mouth.” He hiked his leg up farther for leverage. “Thought I was a _good_ boy.”

“You’re a horrible little shit,” Wade gasped. “The Hanukkah fairy is bringing you coal, and if you weren’t my only hope of escaping this roof before March I’d break up with you right now. God, this reminds me of that time in high school I hooked up with this chick who swore she'd licked Kurt Cobain's asshole, and then we did a bunch of shrooms, and then this guy showed up to the party just off shift from a restaurant with a cardboard box full of ice and oysters and she dared me to eat one. It was exactly like this.”

Spidey groaned into Wade’s neck. As much as Wade was trying to keep the flames of his righteous indignation lit, he couldn’t help but help himself to a palmful of that booty, letting his fingers curl inward against his boy’s twinkling holiday star to guide him home.

“It wasn’t the oysters,” Wade continued. “Those were great, and that dude just shucked 'em with a pocket knife, right there in Josh’s backyard, it was cool as shit! No, afterwards she gave me a hummer in the hallway and when I went to kiss her after she spit my jizz back into my mouth like a _goddamn asshole.”_

Spidey let out an absolutely gorgeous whimper, and shuddered, and slowed to a stop.

“Wow,” he said, getting his breath back. “There’s a lot to unpack in that.”

“Get me off this goddamn roof,” Wade said. “We’re meeting at my place tomorrow night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a chance tomorrow's chapter may be late; I got my flu shot yesterday, and am enjoying some refreshing diet flu today. If you don't hear from me tomorrow, you'll almost certainly get a double update on Wednesday :-)


	6. Spin This Jelly Right Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Dreidel"  
> Content: Explicit, Sexy Dreidel, receptive partner Wade, chaotic switch energy, misuse of jelly

A bead of sweat ran down Wade’s temple, the _thump_ of his heartbeat loud in his ears.

The stakes were high. The tension was higher. 

He could do nothing but wait… wait for the ball to drop… wait for the chips to fall… wait for the — 

“Hmm…” Spider-Man tapped a considering finger against his chin, not even _trying_ to hide the smirk.

 _“Hmm?”_ Wade was sweating latkes here! “C’mon, dude, what does it mean?”

“Shin.” Spidey nodded to himself, examining the dreidel. “That means... I have to give you two kisses.”

“Wow.” Wade shook his head. “Two whole kisses, huh? Man, sucks to be you.”

Wade wasn't sure if the free show was part of the kisses, but he wasn't complaining as Spidey slunk across the living room floor to crawl half into his lap. Spidey tasted like sugar and raspberry jam, and Wade whined and made grabby hands as his delicious boy pulled back, _just_ out of reach.

“Your turn!” Spidey chirped, flopping onto his belly and kicking his spidey-boots blithely in the air.

Wade reached for the dreidel, giving it a wide, easy spin. “Remind me the rules, again?”

Spidey smiled serenely. “Don’t worry about it.”

He had parted ways with Wade right after patrol, crawling through Wade's apartment window a half hour later with a box of sugar-dusted sufganiyot, a well-loved wooden dreidel, and (once he rolled up his mask) a smug grin. He wiggled with a disconcerting — yet still contagious — amount of delight as he proudly announced that he had figured out the rules of sexy dreidel. Unfortunately, much to Wade’s chagrin, his sugary-sweet sweetie had not yet seen fit to _share_ these rules.

Wade had utilized his most fiendish interrogation techniques (up to and including grabbing Spidey’s booty and kissing his neck and whining _‘please please please?’_ as Spidey laughed and batted him away and lit the menorah), but Spidey was apparently interrogation-proof.

The dreidel landed. Dash, curved line, Wade knew this one… “Hey?” he guessed.

He didn’t know what he’d won (or lost), but Spidey’s pleased dimples were their own reward. “Hey,” Spidey confirmed. “That means… that you get to spank me five times.”

Wade was starting to come around to sexy dreidel. “Well, you’d better get those sweet cheeks over here, then.”

There was that slinky crawl again, and Wade was very, _very_ glad that Spidey had scolded him earlier when he suggested playing dreidel on the _table,_ like a _chump._ The floor was clearly superior. Spidey would not have been able to drape across his lap and wiggle _nearly_ as nicely at a table.

Wade took his time to enjoy his prize. He rubbed a hand over the gorgeous curves, lining up just right for five heavy smacks right to the bottom of Spidey’s ass. The resulting moans and squirming told him he’d done it just right, sending vibrations deep into all the nicest places. There was a hitch to Spidey's breath as he scooted back, along with a satisfying little squeak and wiggle as his ass hit the floor.

Spidey spun. Hey.

“That means you have to give me your shirt,” he said.

“You’re making this up,” said Wade. He shot the flickering candles in the window a long-suffering glance. They waved brightly back.

“Nope,” Spidey grinned. “These are definitely the rules.”

Wade spun.

“Nun. Nothing.”

Wade squawked. “What?”

“Rules are rules,” Spidey said. He shrugged his shoulders in a casual undulation of ‘what can you do?’ and spun.

“Y,” Wade said. “For _yes, please._ ”

“You’re looking at it upside down. This one’s gimmel.” Spidey slowly tipped his head, a sly grin crawling ominously across his face.

Wade swallowed hard. “So what does it mean?”

Spidey made his slow, sensual way back to Wade (that little minx knew _exactly_ what he was doing), and held out a sufganiyot. “Hold this for me.” Wade sighed and opened his mouth, _mmph_ ing a little as Spidey really _jammed_ it in there _(ohoho)._

“Maybe I should have gone with cream-filled.” Unf, _marriage material._ “Oh, wait, that was last night. Okay, now hold your hands behind your back.” 

Wade groaned out a huff of sugar, fingers squeezing divots into his own wrist as his pants were roughly pushed down around his thighs. Spit pooled quickly under his tongue, and he worked his jaw around the pastry. He was so focused on navigating that soggy situation that he almost inhaled the entire concoction when Spidey’s cool fingers wrapped around his cock. 

“Don’t swallow. If you swallow, I’ll stop touching you.” 

Wade tipped his head against the couch, choking a little and almost losing the game right then and there. The little brat was using Wade’s own words against him.

Wade was _so proud._

“And you _really_ want me to keep touching you.” 

Wade nodded frantically. He _really, really_ did want that! He silently urged the rapidly disintegrating donut to hang in there and be strong. Spidey just smiled and gave a particularly inspired twist of his wrist. 

“You know why?” His lips brushed Wade’s earlobe. “Because gimmel means I get _everything._ ”

Oh, _fuck._ “Eh-he-ing?” Wade mumbled, hopefully.

There was the click of a bottle opening, the squelch of lube, and then slick hands were sliding around his cock. “Up to you,” Spidey said. He bit his lip, hands briefly slowing. “But, um, do you remember that time on the rooftop, around Labor Day?”

Wade nodded eagerly. He most certainly _did_ remember. Had remembered it countless times, in fact, with briskly enthusiastic fondness. Impromptu butt stuff was always a dicey proposition, and even on the good days (days when the exit ramp had been appraised and re-zoned for recreational use) rooftop hookups weren’t the romantic trysts that the comics made them out to be. One might say that getting frisky on a filthy rooftop was less than _relaxing._ One might consider the inherent difficulty in trying to fingerbang while crossing your fingers that the empty windows overlooking you were _actually_ empty.One might go so far as to assert that the anxiety around being the cause of Spider-Man’s Big Gay Sex Scandal made certain key sphincters _less than accommodating._ And that was before you even considered the logistics of peeling out of sweaty spandex and unbuckling thousands of straps and pouches (looking at you, Rob “Cockblock” Liefeld).

All this to say, they usually skipped the old in-and-out for more immediately gratifying pursuits. But once or twice, when the stars aligned (well, one very important star), they managed to make it work.

So, yes, Wade _definitely_ remembered Labor Day.

And Wade had maybe been a wee bit optimistic about their very first ‘Dreidel and Chill’ and, while Spidey was out on his clandestine donut mission, had maybe taken a shower that included a quick and dirty clean-up of his quick-and-dirty.

“That seems like a yes,” Spidey murmured, hands sliding leisurely around Wade’s cock, one coming up to glide against his nipple, mouth working at Wade’s neck, and the crook of his shoulder. “Good. I think of that night… a lot. Um. Enthusiastically. Fuck, I love seeing you in the light like this, love taking my time on you. You look so good right now.”

Wade couldn’t help it — he swallowed hard. “Aw, fuck,” he said, spraying bits of donut. Spidey laughed, wiping a little jam off his cheek and leaning in to kiss him deep, like an itty bitty northern gannet chick receiving a delicious gift of regurgitated raspberry-infused river Atlantic cod from its doting bird-mom. 

“Aw,” Spidey said, “too bad for you.”

“Is it?” Wade asked. He lunged, and before Spidey could even blink those big, beautiful lenses Wade had him on his back, hands pinned above his head. “Is it too bad for me? Because I think it’s my turn.” 

Spidey whimpered enticingly as Wade switched the grip on his wrists to one hand, grabbing the dreidel from where it had fallen to the side. He made a show of examining it, right in front of Spidey’s nose, entertaining the charming hope that his boo was going cross-eyed under that mask. Then he carefully, deliberately set the dreidel on its side, right in the middle of Spidey’s chest.

“Huh,” Wade said. “Gimmel. Correct me if I’m wrong, I’m not the dreidel expert here, but… I’m pretty sure that means I get _everything._ ”

“Pretty sure it does.” Spidey’s cheeks were pink where they peeked out under the mask, and his tongue dipped out to wet his lips. “What do you want?”

Wade reached down and gave Spidey, Jr. a nice, firm handshake through the thick spandex. Spidey, Sr. arched, and Wade kissed the gasp right out of his mouth. “You know what I want.”

The world spun and flipped and then Wade was on his back again, gazing adoringly up at red and webbed and smug-all-over. “I was hoping that’s what you wanted,” Spidey said, pressing the front of his body against Wade in a long, tantalizing slide. “Now get your fucking pants off.”

Wade ripped his pants off faster than a Chippendales dancer (pour one out for yet another pair of dearly departed comfy-pants), and then Spidey was back on top of him right there on the living room floor, gently making space for himself between Wade’s legs.

Wade groaned as a finger slipped in.

“Yeah?” Spidey murmured. “Is this how you like it, big guy? Talk to me.”

“You want me to talk _more_ in bed? That’s gotta be a first. Dear Diary, I never thought it would happen to me…”

Spidey growled and nipped Wade’s cheek. “Keep talking, you know I love it.” He curled his finger a little, let it drag on the way out, dipped in with his fingertips over and over in a rolling, tickling motion.

“I love this,” Wade choked out. “Love everything you do to me. Whatever you want.”

“Helpful,” Spidey said, shaking his head. “Specific. Luckily, I think I have a few ideas.” He sat back, drizzling lube over two fingers as he pressed them in. “I think you like it _wet._ ” Wade’s breath caught. _“Messy._ I think you like it so slick around your cock that I can barely keep my hand around it. You like shoving your fingers down my throat until I gag, until my mouth’s so full of spit I can’t hold it all in. And I bet — ” he punctuated with a hard thrust “ — I bet you like it wet back here, too.”

He curled over, worked his mouth until a viscous string of spit oozed down to slide over Wade’s lube-polished cock, and then he slowly, meticulously rubbed it in, matching the rhythm with smooth strokes against Wade’s insides.

Then he tipped his head up and made one of his lenses wink. “That’s what I think. What do you think?”

Wade’s heart fluttered (along with his asshole). “I think you need to get your dick in me right fuckin’ now.”

The loss of Spidey’s magic fingers was a tragedy for the ages, but he was mercifully quick to roll on a condom and press in. Wade sighed as his body relaxed, wiggled happily at the stretch and the pressure and the bone-deep satisfaction, whined as Spidey paused and pressed their foreheads together.

“You good?” Spidey asked, the muscles in his shoulders and neck straining delightfully as he fought to hold it together. “What do you need?”

“Oh my god.” Wade’s head rolled to the side, his desperate, needy eyes fixing on the sufganiyot carton. “I’m so past good. Just jam it in. Pump me full of jam. Insert a fruit-related metaphor right up my fruit basket. _Fuck me_ already.”

“I take back everything I ever said about loving your dirty talk,” Spidey said, and jammed something full of jam (…a donut, it was a jelly donut) into Wade’s cakehole (the mouth one, not any of the other holes which may or may not have been available for cake).

Wade squealed in muffled glee. And then Spidey slid a hand under one of Wade’s knees and held him open and really put his back into it, and all Wade could do was hang on for dear life and sputter out obscene, raspberry-flavored encouragement.

  
  


“That was way better on the floor than on a rooftop,” Spidey said afterwards, taking a thoughtful bite of one of the less-smashed sufganiyot.

Wade batted his eyes, running his tongue seductively across a streak of jelly on Spidey’s forearm. “Not to brag, but it’s even better in a bed.”

Spidey shivered happily. “I can’t wait to find out.”


	7. Love, Peace, and Latke Grease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Latkes" + "Snow"  
> Content: Nonsexual, light/pre-ageplay (because Spider-Man is _not_ into ageplay 😉😉😉)
> 
> With art by [Atem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atemluver/pseuds/Atemluver)!!! This is their fill for "Snow", and I am actually dead of joy. [Please go give it all the love on Tumblr.](https://atemy.tumblr.com/post/637716173931397120/show-chapter-archive)  
>  _(embedded with explicit permission from the artist)_

Wade texted Spider-Man first thing in the morning (so, at the crack of 2pm).

> **DP:** we still on for patrol, bb? found us some rotten nuts to cracker, sugar plum
> 
> **Spidey:** Not really up for patrol.  
>  **Spidey:** Can I stop by after work?

Ruh-roh.

Periods in texts? A _missed opportunity for a 'swing byʼ pun??_

Wade was 99% sure that he hadn’t unalived anyone lately, but he found himself thinking through his last couple of days just in case. Because if he hadn’t done anything to get on Spidey’s shitlist, then the only other option was…

“Spidey’s breaking up with me,” he stated to the empty room.

Ugh, he _knew_ he was getting too clingy. It was only a matter of time before Webs came to his senses. His phone pinged, and he peeked through his fingers at the screen.

> **Spidey:** That came out really ominous, I’m sorry!!!!!!!  
>  **Spidey:** I’m just having a really shitty day at work, and if I go out I’m gonna punch someone too hard :( :( :(  
>  **Spidey:** But I still really want to see you, if that’s okay?  
>  **Spidey:** I know we don’t usually do that… 
> 
> **DP:** my moping couch is your moping couch, baby boy  
>  **DP:** i’ll throw the depression-slanket in the dryer so it’s nice and warm for u  
>  **DP:** you better not stand me and menorahsaur up, though. we got candles to light

This was _definitely_ an emergency. But luckily for Spidey, Wade had a secret weapon. And that weapon? _Love._

(And grease. Lots and lots of grease.)

_ Art by [Atemy](https://atemy.tumblr.com/) _

Spidey rolled through the window around sundown, clutching Wade’s big blue coat around himself. “Hey, thanks for letting me crash your night.” He froze, tilting his head. “Is that — ? Did you make latkes?”

“I figured I'm good at pancakes and I'm good at hash browns, so potato pancakes should be a snap, right?” Wade twisted his Céline Dion apron nervously. “Turns out I was _wrong,_ and I now owe the countries of Israel, Ireland, and Idaho formal letters of apology for my crimes against potatoes _,_ but Mrs. Rubin down the hall helped me, especially once she figured out they were for my ‘nice young man.’ And I know it's her family recipe not your family recipe, but I hope I did okay…”

Spidey’s mask didn’t move. Wade’s gut dipped. _Our Lady of Québec, give me strength._

“And if you don't like latkes, that's fine too! I can order pizza. I'll order five pizzas! Spidey? Are you… are you mad at me?” Then Spidey kinda folded in on himself, and Wade panicked. “No on the latkes, got it, stupid of me to — ” and then he _oofed_ as he found himself squeezed very tight around the middle by a very strong, very _dense_ superhero, who was very sadly trying to burrow his face right through Wade’s abs.

“I love latkes,” Spidey whimpered to a screen printed photo of Céline’s gold lamé 2016 Billboard Music Awards dress. “And I had such a shitty day and then I come over here and you _cooked_ for me and I just…” 

His voice broke as his shoulders started to hitch. Wade pet long strokes up and down his back. “Baby boy, you've been bottling it _up,_ huh? It’s okay, you’re here now. Daddy’ll make it better.” 

“That's gross," Spidey said, but he graced Wade with a wet chuckle. 

“You're gross. All… leaking, and snotty, and stuff. You wanna go wash your face while I finish dinner?” 

“Yeah.” Spidey let him go, one reluctant finger at a time. “Yeah, that sounds nice.” 

Wade showed him into the bathroom, sneaking a clean towel and a few comfy clothes onto the counter. _Just_ in case. “Dryer's right there if you wanna run your mask through for a few minutes. Take as long as you need, sugarbun.” 

Wade tiptoed out, holding his breath and pricking his ears as he waited for the next batch of oil to heat up. A few minutes later he heard the hum of the dryer, and the squeak of pipes as the shower turned on. He smiled, and slid a latke into the pan.

And then Spidey came out and Wade almost fell over because oh my _god,_ Spider-Man drowning in his sweats was the best thing _ever._ “Your shower’s really nice,” Spidey mumbled, tugging at the hood draped around his neck. Then, “Aw, you put him in the window, nice.”

He shuffled his way to the windowsill where Wade had set up Menorah-saur, stepping carefully to avoid tripping on the trailing sweatpants.

“Yeah, thatʼs okay, right?” Wade came up behind him, wrapping big arms around his waist and looking down at the candles.

“Yeah,” Spidey said. “It looks nice there.” He lit the shamosh, then turned his face up to Wade, like he was asking for the next step.

Wade kissed his temple. “You have to remind me, remember, baby?”

“Right!” Spidey said. “Um. It goes like, _Baruch atah, Adonai — ”_

Wade joined in, supporting Spidey’s light voice with his own.

(He didn’t do too bad, he hoped — his YouTube-researched Hebrew had been soundly corrected to New York standards that afternoon by Mrs. Rubin, with the help of a rolled-up newspaper.)

Spidey bit his lip, carefully lifting the center candle to light down the row. Wade eyed the last spot on the left, dark and empty.

“One more night, huh?”

“One more night,” Spidey said. Suddenly, he spun in the circle of Wade’s arms, flinging his arms around Wade’s neck. His lenses grew wide, until they seemed to stretch across his entire mask. “Can we light them here?”

Wade grinned down at those hopeful, sparkling lenses and booped his nose. “We sure can, sweet pea!” 

Spidey ducked his head and shuffled his feet and Wade fought the urge to coo. Look at Mr. ‘Age play is gross,’ over here. 

Daddy Deadpool used Childhood Comfort Food! 

It's _super_ effective! 

He pulled Spidey over to the couch. “Wanna watch a movie while we eat, baby?” 

Spidey nodded mutely, then tilted his head at the screen. “This is a kids movie.” His lenses narrowed. “Are you trying to do Daddy stuff at me?” 

Wade gasped. “Do I look like the kind of person who would try to stealth you into Daddy kink on a night when you're sad and vulnerable?” 

Spidey peeled up his mask and shoved a latke in his mouth in lieu of an answer. 

(He got applesauce on his nose. _Cute.)_

 _“The Cat Returns_ is no mere cartoon,” Wade said with a frown. “It's a dastardly ploy by Studio Ghibli, exquisitely crafted to seed your subconscious with one, and only one goal. And do you know what that goal is?” Spidey stilled as Wade leaned in close, his mouth dropped open mid-bite. “To make an entire generation gay for cats.”

Spidey jerked back with an adorable little snort. “Nuh-uh,” he said. 

“Yup,” Wade popped. “Just you wait. I bet you fifty gelt you'll be totally gay for the Baron by the end of this movie.”

By the end of the movie, Spidey was _definitely_ gay for cats. 

He didn't utter a single peep of protest as Wade loaded up the next cartoon, and he barely seemed to notice when Wade dodged in with a spit-moistened thumb to wipe a spot of sour cream off the corner of his mouth. And he went lax and happy when Wade pulled him half into his lap.

By the end of the next movie, Spidey was _definitely_ asleep.

Wade let himself soak it in, let it wash over him — the heavy weight in his arms, the smell of his own soap on clean skin, the hypnotic play of light flickering across the red of the mask as Ponyo splashed her way across the DVD menu screen. 

“I wanna catch you, Pete,” he whispered to Spidey's sleeping head. “You just gotta let me.”

  
  


Wade jolted awake. He cracked his aching neck and gazed blearily around the bright, empty living room. 

The coffee table was clear, last night's dinner dishes shuffled away, and one of his unicorn sticky notes greeted him cheerfully. Its fluffy paper body was adorned with a big heart drawn in fine, careful pen strokes, and perfectly symmetrical webs radiated out from the center, with a tiny “THANKS” tucked into one corner. 

Wade put it on the fridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little consent / kink negotiation nerdery, if you feel like reading it (because I felt a little twitchy about one of the lines in there and really had to sit down and think it through):  
> Wade isn't trying to trick Spidey into doing a kink he's not into. He's just noticed that Spidey occasionally does a thing that looks a whole lot like aging down (a thing that responds suspiciously well to Daddypool). Spidey has a kneejerk squick around ageplay because of some pretty common stereotypes, and some _very_ reasonable hang-ups about Dad stuff. It's still a situation that could get gross and patronizing really easily, but because this is a soft and gentle universe (except when it isn't), Wade is being very careful to react, not instigate, and to avoid accidentally developing a significant D/s relationship without Spidey's buy-in. And pretty soon here he'll sit on Spidey and force him to have the "So you might be an age player..." talk. The end.
> 
> One more night, lovelies... 😘


	8. How To Woo A Guy In Eight Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "A Hallmark Moment" [Free Space]  
> Content: Feelings (ugh), Sexytimes, Breathplay, A SECRET IS REVEALED (you'll never guess what...) (yes, you will)
> 
> I hope that my delay allowed Hanukkah to live on in your hearts for a couple of days longer. Apparently my stamina for daily posting is seven days and my ability to keep things short and snappy goes down, the more tired I get 😅 And Peter isn't the only one having a tough time at work right now (although at least I don't work for a boss who is literally printing libel about me on the daily... small favors!). What I'm saying is, if anyone wants to be my Renaissance-style patron and pay me to write weird smut and paint pictures of cats all day... I'm what one might call "available."

Spider-Man slotted all eight candles carefully in place and held the tiny menorah up, peering down the row of blue and white. “Last night, huh?”

“Last night,” Wade agreed.

They had spent every night of Hanukkah together. Tonight, the shape of the Hebrew felt almost natural in Wade's mouth as they sang the blessing; the smell of sulphur and melting wax was an instant hit of happiness. Despite the abundance of good vibes warming up his apartment, Wade felt a little melancholy. This had been the best Hanukkah he’d ever had (and not just because it was the _only_ Hanukkah he’d ever had). He hadn’t spent eight nights in a row with Spidey in, well… ever. It felt like the end of a dream, and Wade was fumbling for the snooze button.

He sighed, watching a fat drop of wax slowly slide to the bottom of the tin. “So, is night eight when you get the best present?”

“It is,” Spidey said.

“Whatdya get me then, Webs?” He plastered on a cocky grin. “I hope it’s the Barbie Dream Mansion, I’ve been so, so — ”

The words dried in his throat. Instead of expressive white lenses, he had turned to meet shining, hopeful eyes. 

“I was hoping I could do you one better,” said the beautiful stranger with Spidey’s jawline and Spidey’s voice. Wade could only gape. Spidey’s brow creased, and he cut his eyes to the side. “Do you like it? I mean, do you like…”

_Do you like me?_

Wade had to clear his throat to get the words out. “Best present anyone’s ever got me.” 

He stepped in close, let his fingers explore over unfamiliar cheekbones, skim across tangled brown curls. 

Whispered, “Hiya, Pete.”

And kissed him.

  
  


They ended up in bed (of course), and Peter let Wade peel him _all_ the way out of the suit. 

(“Oh my _god,_ that feels good,” he sighed, humming as he rolled around on the sheets. 

Wade pouted. “You _never_ make sounds that good about me touching your funzones.”)

And then Peter grinned and said, “I have one more present for you,” and then he rolled over onto his stomach and pushed back on his elbows, and if Wade had still been wearing pants he would have been in danger of coming in them.

Look, Wade had compared Spidey’s perfect asshole to a twinkling star many times this holiday season. _Too_ many times. He’d been overworking that metaphor in the exact way he _wanted_ to be overworking dat ass.

He hadn’t expected it to _actually twinkle._

But there it was, a rich blue gem, an enticing sparkle to draw his eye right to the very best spot. He leaned in, spread those perfect cheeks with his thumbs. Peter squeaked and buried his face in his hands.

“Aw, are you embarrassed, sparklebutt?” Wade cooed. “After you got all dressed up for me and everything?”

Wade slipped his hand around Peter’s hip, rolling his palm around a _very_ interested cock.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like being embarrassed.” His baby squirmed, tried to pull away. “Don’t be like that, jelly bean. It’s my present, isn’t it?” He dropped his voice, tightened his hands. “Show me what’s mine, Pete.”

“Wade!” Peter’s head popped up. His neck had gone the most delicious shade of pink, and Wade suddenly had a pressing need to know just how far down his chest that flush went.

For now, he dug his thumbs into either side of the gem; smooth, sure strokes, just enough pressure to hint at the idea of a bruise. Peter relaxed in a huff, upper body draping heavy down from the pivot of his hips. He gasped sweetly as Wade licked a wet stripe along the divot of his spine.

“So, my delectable slice of pumpkin pie.” Wade watched with glee as his breath brought up goosebumps on Peter’s skin. “Would we call this an ornament?” He thumbed at the gem until Peter whimpered into the mattress. “Or is it more like gift wrap? Because I gotta tell ya, Pete, I’m the kinda kid who wants to play with my presents right away on Christmas morning.”

“Hate to spoil the surprise,” Peter gasped. “But it’s not exactly mint condition. Probably fine to take it out of the sleeve.”

“I was thinking more about putting something _in_ the sleeve.” Wade tugged idly at the gem, feeling the plug catch and pull. He let his voice get a little dark. “And did I just hear that you got me a hand-me-down? You're just gonna lie there and expect me to get giddy over a present that someone else already had their grubby hands all over?

Peter collapsed further into his folded arms, fingers clenching in his hair. “I prefer ‘gently loved,’” he mumbled to the blanket.

“Was it, though?” Wade started to ease the plug out, pausing at the widest point (and, oh, it was wide). “Gentle, I mean.”

With a strangled moan, Peter shook his head. Wade clucked his tongue, taking his time to remove the plug, really drawing out the withdrawal.

Two of his thick fingers replaced it, sinking into Peter’s body like butter. “Fuck, baby, I didn’t think you’d be so _easy_ for it. Thought you were butt shy, if I’m being honest. Figured I’d have to spend all night opening you up.”

“Next time,” Peter whimpered. “Next time. Right now I need you to fuck me, _please._ ”

Oh, that _‘please’_ was music to Wade’s ears. “I _am_ fucking you,” he cooed.

“Wa-a-ade. Fuck me for real!”

Wade hummed, considering. “You sure you’re ready, kitten? I know it’s the end of the story arc and the readers are expecting you to get railed, but that doesn't mean we have to go all the way up the Rainbow Escalator tonight. Hell, you get to keep your gay card even if we _never_ stick anything up your butt.” He punctuated this statement with a firm curl of the fingers that were currently, at that very moment, up Peter’s butt. “It’ll be so, so hard on me to wait. It’ll just tear me up, taking my sweet time to take your sweet spider-virginity. But for you? I’m willing to make that sacrifice.”

Peter screamed (actually screamed) into the mattress, then glared back over his shoulder. “Wade, I need you to listen to me very carefully. I have been jerking off fantasizing about your cock in my ass for a _year and a half._ If you don't get it in me soon, I'm gonna push you down and take it.”

Wade’s entire body _throbbed,_ and he bit his lip until he tasted blood as he yanked his fingers out and flipped Peter onto his back. He crowded his way between Peter’s legs, rolled on a condom, lined up. Peter fussed, and whined, and tried to fuck himself down onto Wade’s cock. But when Wade said, _“Settle,_ ” and wrapped a large hand around Peter’s slim throat, every muscle in Peter’s body seemed to relax in an instant. 

“Did you fuck yourself, too? Yeah, you did, I know you did. With your fingers? With toys?”

Wade leaned in close, his mouth ghosting across Peter’s ear. 

“Did you ever think about me when someone else was inside of you?” Peter quivered, silent, and Wade flexed his fingers, dug into the most vulnerable places on Peter’s neck. “Asked you a question, Pete.”

Peter’s entire body jolted. “…y-yeah.” 

“Good boy,” Wade growled, and shoved in.

Peter shouted and arched, neck pressing up against Wade’s hand, legs squeezing and pulling as if to engulf him. Wade groaned at the clench, pleasure radiating from his balls to his belly button.

“Thank you,” Peter moaned.

Wade cupped the back of Peter’s neck, brought their foreheads together. “Touch yourself, honey.” 

It was everything Wade had hoped (... dreamed … fantasized). The sounds Peter made when he felt safe and comfortable were so much better than repressed rooftop whimpers. Peter’s hand worked against Wade’s abs, and he fucked back, and he buried his teeth in Wade’s shoulder when it all got to be too much. It was heaven, having Peter wrapped around him, wrapping his way around Peter right back, pressing into his accommodating warmth over and over again until they could have shared the same skin.

Wade wanted to see Peter’s face; so he pulled back, squeezed Peter’s neck tighter, applied a pressure he wouldn’t have dared to use without being able to watch his baby’s pretty eyes roll back in his head. He sped up the pace, tightening the grip on Peter's throat until his sex kitten’s lusty moans were reduced to tiny, breathless mewls.

The face was new, the way it flushed, the way it tensed and pursed and begged, and Wade was _so_ looking forward to learning it. But it was still all so familiar; the breathy, uneven hitch to Peter’s moans as he got close. The way his fingers dug bruises into Wade’s back. His baby was getting there; he was so, _so_ close. 

Wade slapped his hand over Peter’s nose and mouth. 

Peter’s eyes snapped open, and he moaned, muffled and reedy under Wade’s heavy fingers. Wade drank in the sight of fluttering eyelashes, reveled in the press of Peter’s lips as he strained for air. He slammed in harder, determined to fuck the breath right out of that sweet boy.

And it was so very sweet. Peter keened, body twitching in delicious little jerks, and his slim fingers pawed weakly at Wade’s wrist. His movements grew more and more desperate until finally his eyes flew open to lock, panicked, on Wade’s. He tapped Wade’s forearm, three sharp beats.

Wade lifted his hand.

Peter sucked in a great gasp, letting it out in a torrent of, “gonna come, gonna come, gonna come, _please,_ ” and Wade slammed his hand back down.

“Come,” he ordered, and Peter convulsed under his hands, around his cock, squealing pathetically through Wade’s fingers as he splashed wet between their stomachs.

Wade let him have his breath back as he fucked him through it, leisurely squeezing out every last, tantalizing shudder. Peter grinned dopily up at him and took his hard-earned kisses with languid contentment. Wade ignored his own pulsing dick (except for the part where every little pulse and twitch made his love bug twitch a little, too), and focused on stroking him, soothing every inch of flushed skin, milking out every last one of those happy brain chemicals. 

Finally, Peter lay limp and happy, arching and shivering as Wade pulled out. He cracked an eye. “But you didn’t — ?”

“I didn’t,” Wade grinned, gratified to see Peter’s eyes widen slightly at his tone.

He peeled off the condom, carelessly tossing the flaccid membrane across Peter’s stomach. Peter flinched, and let out a helpless moan.

“This present was alright,” Wade said. “I mean. It was fine, for something that was all used up and filthy before I even got it. But I think I want to play with my other present again.” He maneuvered Peter as he spoke, placing his limbs just-so, swiping his fingers through the mess on Peter’s stomach as he straddled his chest, bracing a hand on the wall so he could eclipse that tiny body with his shadow. “Gonna come all over that pretty, bare face, baby boy.”

Just as Wade suspected, that pretty, bare face looked even better with a festive splatter of sweet holiday cheer.

  
  


Holding Peter, bare skin to bare skin, in an _actual bed,_ Wade couldn’t imagine a better place to be. “Do you want to stay?” he asked. “I mean… I’d like you to stay.”

Peter curled around him. “I work really early tomorrow. Fuck. I wanna stay, though.” He buried his face against Wade in a frustrated little motion, mumbled, “Don’t wanna go to work.”

“Don’t,” Wade said, and then snapped his mouth shut.

Peter stilled, and Wade held his breath. “What do you mean?” Peter asked, carefully.

 _Brush it off,_ Wade told himself. _Make a joke, defuse this bomb._

“Okay, so I’m being a fucking dumbass, and you’re gonna be mad.” _Welp._

Peter pulled back, leaned up on his elbow. “Go for it.”

Wade squeezed his eyes shut. “No, but seriously, I need you to promise me preemptively that you’ll delete the next two minutes.”

“Promise.”

Heaving in a breath, Wade propped himself up. If he was going to fuck this all up, he was going to face his impending fuck-up head on. “Don’t go,” he said. “Don’t go in tomorrow. Don’t go back any day. I don’t know what that job is, but baby, it’s dimming your glow.”

Peter’s face crumpled for the briefest second before he smoothed it back over. “I can’t just stop going to work. I have bills.”

“What if you didn’t, though?”

Another flicker of emotion, a twist of the mouth that could have meant anger, or consideration, or a stifled laugh. Wade had always wondered if Spidey used the mask to cover an expressive face, but no — baby boy was apparently a matryoshka doll of emotional walls, like the sweetest of Walla Walla onions. That was okay. Wade had learned one mask; he’d happily spend the rest of his life learning the rest.

Assuming he wasn’t about to blow the whole thing up right now, of course.

Peter tipped his adorable, unreadable head. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

Wade rolled onto his back, flinging an arm over his face and fighting the urge to scream into his elbow. “I don’t know! Baby, you know I’d burn down the world to see you smile, but if I burned down the world you wouldn’t wanna smile anymore, so instead I gotta spend all my time figuring out how much I’m allowed to spend on you.” He froze. “Whoa. Sorry. Fuck, that baggage tag doesn’t even have your name scribbled on it. Do me a solid and delete that part extra hard.”

Wade scrubbed at his face. Put a pin in _that_ one for the Therapy Notebook(Tee Em).

“You don't gotta take anything from me. Ever. But I wanna be your safety net on this one. Give you room to breathe until you can find a different job, or figure out grad school, or learn to knit, or whatever it is you wanna do. Just let me catch you for a little while.”

He held his breath, palms over his eyes. _Fuck._

“Okay.”

Wade peeked through his fingers. “I’m sorry… did you just say ‘okay’?”

“Okay.” Peter nodded.

Wade noted that particular combination of scrunched eyebrows, asymmetrical mouth, and unfocused eyes, and tucked it away in the ‘Introspection’ section in the giant, battered card catalogue labeled ‘Spidey’s Microexpressions’ that lived in the place in his brain where he probably should have kept self-preservation.

“I won’t go in tomorrow. I’ll call in sick. It’s fucking Hanukkah, and I haven’t had a single day off in eight days, can you believe that?” Peter huffed, then flashed Wade a fleeting heartbreaker of a smile. “I’ll call out, and then I’ll go back to sleep for an ungodly amount of time, and then we’ll go get bagels and bring them home and eat them in bed. And then… no promises, or expectations, but we’ll talk. Okay?”

Wade swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “Okay,” he whispered. Then he sat up and put his head in his hands. “No, wait, this is a terrible idea, what are you doing? You’re supposed to be the voice of reason!”

Peter snorted. “If you think I’m going to be the reasonable one in this relationship, you’re going to be very disappointed.” His voice turned serious, and he sat up, putting a hand on Wade’s cheek. Wade turned, kissed his palm. “It’s six years, by the way.”

Wade blinked. “What?”

“Six years, not four. That’s how long we’ve known each other. Almost exactly. It was winter break back in college, and it was really quiet so I swung further out than I usually did, and I met you for the first time. And we got to talking and I was like, wow, it’s crazy that no one’s out doing crimes tonight, it’s never this quiet! And you were like… Spidey… baby… it’s Christmas Eve.”

“Huh,” Wade said. “That… makes a lot more sense in context.”

“Right?”

“I thought you didn't have anyone at Christmas.”

“Well I thought _you_ didn't have anyone at Christmas.”

Wade thought about it for a second. “I mean. I guess I didn’t.”

“Well.” Peter ducked his head. “I guess you had me. And you noticed me shivering and bought me a hot cocoa and spiked it, and I was hoping you wouldn’t notice me being super rude by not drinking it, because I was anxious about pushing my mask even halfway. And you asked if it was okay if you turned your back on me because you had horrible childhood trauma around watching people consume beverages, and it was the least subtle thing in the entire world.”

“It was smooth,” Wade protested.

“It was _so obvious,_ ” Peter snickered. “And so fucking sweet. And we stayed out until 4am talking.” A smile was creeping its way across his face, soft and genuine. “Look, what I’m saying is, I trust you. I let you see my face. One time you dug a fucking _bullet_ out of my ass. I know we’re new to this dating thing, but I’ve known you for six years. And you know me — ” he stopped short, swallowed hard “ — you know me well enough to know that I need h-help. You’re, um. You’re the only one who noticed. The only one I _let_ notice. So I trust you enough to at least have a conversation about this. Okay?”

“Okay,” Wade said, brushing his knuckles across Peter’s cheek. Peter preened.

Peter was dimples, and delight, and sweet potential. And when he leaned in, his smile was sweet against Wade’s mouth.

_(the end.)_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been reading along and commenting. You are the true Hanukkah gift <3 Writing this for you all has been a true delight.
> 
> I don't have any plans for these boys for the rest of this year. Wishing you all a gentle end to this clusterfuck of a year, and a packed 2021 holiday calendar 😏
> 
> Big thanks again to [CuteAsAMuntin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuteAsAMuntin/pseuds/CuteAsAMuntin), [Atemluver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atemluver/pseuds/Atemluver), [Y_ellow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Y_ellow/), and [AnGoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnGoose/pseuds/AnGoose) for all the help! Go read their stuff!
> 
> **Want more Bromantic Hanukkah bingo fills?:**
> 
>   * "[A Week and a Day (of Love for You)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28093641)" by high_functioning_sociopath for 'Menorah'
>   * "[Criminal Latke Crimes: A Holiday Tale](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28112178)" by CuteAsAMuntin for 'Latkes'
> 

> 
> ([Find me on Tumblr](https://waterme-stories.tumblr.com/), if you want! Or scream about SpideyPool with me in [Isn't It Bromantic](https://discord.gg/w6UyAn7) (18+) )


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